


Plenty

by tardisfalls



Category: Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender-neutral Reader, Light Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisfalls/pseuds/tardisfalls
Summary: When Nevada comes home from the umpteenth time, hurt and wounded, you can only do what makes him feel contempt.
Relationships: Nevada Ramirez/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Plenty

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr: metachorism :)

He came back home to you with his knuckles busted and bleeding, biting back tears that were only produced by the stinging of his bruised nose. He always tried to be the biggest and baddest shark in the sea, making people who saw him run in fear—but on the very odd occasion, he didn't always get the upper hand and came back to you with a tail between his legs and exaggerating his story just a _little_ so he would look stronger than he was. 

Nevada always found ways to make you worry for him. 

You knew what his job was like, what it included and the risks he took everyday when he stepped outside of the place he called home.

You would always kiss him goodbye because the fear of one of his men knocking your door to tell you news of your boyfriend being murdered is a real reality. You always told him you loved him—despite the fact he never said it back.

When he walked through your door, into your kitchen and helped himself to the bottles of alcohol in a cabinet beneath the sink without saying a word to you, you knew that he wasn't in a good mood. Evidently by the state he was in, too.

You didn't know how to approach him, how he would react if you bombarded him with concerned questions. You wanted to so badly console him and to make him feel better but you had to walk on egg-shells to do it.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" Was the only thing that had came to your mind. Baths are relaxing, they can help clear your head of toxicity building inside it—it seemed doable for even Trujillo.

"No." He replies curtly, he doesn't look at you. He gulps down a glass of his scotch and makes his way to the settee, the after-burn of the alcohol going down his throat only adding to his bitter attitude. "Come here."

You do, following in his tracks and hesitantly sitting beside him.

Sometimes he had to be held, he liked being held—especially when you held him as you slept. Sometimes the vulnerability that he had buried deep made an appearance and he was taking the risk of showing it to you. You had weaved your way into his heart and knitted a fluffy armor of protection around it, but he wouldn't tell you that. Not yet.

Nevada couldn't stand to look at other people—not in the way he used to, anyway, like they were pieces of meat that he would use for half an hour then throw away. You had changed him simply by being there for him, dealing with his stroppy attitudes and behaviors that would get one put away for life.

He thought on how he could never do you wrong, only because he had found someone who only cared about him and not what he has in his pockets—someone who cared so much to kiss him before he left for work incase he never came back.

But this was just enough for you as he held you close. His mixed scent of day-old aftershave, cigar smoke and the faint smell of dirt and blood imprinted itself on you. Your stomach churned as you thought about what he had been through before he came home—but you knew better not to question it.

A frustrated and angry Nevada wasn't a Nevada you wanted to he around—you had been on the receiving end once before. A dark time when he had reeled you into his dark world because you owed him. 

You were scared of him, then. Your eyes could never meet his because of the abhor that was home in them. 

That was a long time ago, though. Now, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, off him, his eyes held a softness only for you and that was more than enough. 

So you pushed the thoughts of the _what-ifs_ away and held him a tad tighter, pressing your cheek into the hallow of his neck and cherishing the warmth of his very-alive existence and just enjoying his presence, listening to his heartbeat and the breaths he took. 

This was plenty.


End file.
